Chronicles of the Deathwatch
by Tilthanial
Summary: The adventures of a killteam in the 5th Company of the Deathwatch. (Quasi-novelization of a Deathwatch RPG campaign. Will update as sessions are played).


**_Author's Notes: Work on _****_Purified by Cold-Fire_****_ has unfortunately bogged down while I try to iron out plot continuity between the various parties. In the meantime, please enjoy this mostly serious but entertainment-minded chronicle of [REDACTED] community's current Deathwatch RPG campaign._**

**_Confidentiality notice: Real names/locations of players will not be given. Please don't ask._**

**_Final Note: As stated above, this is a game run by 40k fans. Expect plenty of shenanigans and Perils of the Warp_**

* * *

_Duty Roster of the Day_

_Brother Rengar, Space Wolf, Assault Class (Skyclaw)_

_Codicier Chronus, Ultramarines, Librarian__  
_

_Brother Naaman, Obsidian Angels, Tactical_

_Brother Shlutz, Raven Guard, Apothecary_

_Brother Daxin, Dark Angels, Techmarine_

_Codicier Velcona, Salamanders, Librarian_

* * *

_Planet Castobel_

_Year XXX.M41_

_Tyranid Infestation: Minimal_

"Codicier Chronus, your mission was a success?" Sergeant Furious Agrippa swept his unblinking gaze across the six Deathwatch Space Marines. Their armor was scored and pitted, their weapon muzzles blackened from firing. Despite the chaos of coordinating the various Deathwatch killteams on Castobel's surface, he allowed himself a moment to receive their report in full. Gesturing to the campaign servitors, he drew them in to copy down the team's words. A detailed report could come later, but he wanted to hear this story.

"We confirmed the status of the 813th Cadian Shock Troops" the Ultramarine librarian answered. Steel backed his tone and his eyes met Sergeant Agrippa's unflinchingly. "They are dead."

"All of them?"

"No survivors" Brother Chronus confirmed.

The Sergeant nodded slowly, sifting that nugget of information into the scheme of complicated maneuvers at hand. Another Guard unit would have to be sent in to fill the gap. The Guard units were being wiped out by the Tyranids so quickly he was beginning to lose count of their reserve forces.

"How did they die, Brother?"

The librarian did not respond immediately. The other members of his killteam, those that had removed their helmets, exchanged silent glances. Sergeant Agrippa resisted the urge to press the question. Something big had happened out there, that much was certain. Those recruited into the Deathwatch were not regular Space Marines. Something had given them trouble.

"They died. That is all that matters." The librarian still did not look away. His eyes bored into the Sergeant as if daring him to ask again. "What is our next objective?"

"Your eagerness to return to the field is commendable" Sergeant Agrippa noted. He decided to not push the librarian. The full truth would come out in time. "Have your team reequip and repair your armor. When you are finished assemble here and I will give you the next task."

"Throne guide you, Brother" Codicier Chronus said. His team turned and left the command bunker, leaving the Sergeant wondering just what had occurred out there. Then a cogitator-plugged servitor shrieked an alarm and he turned back to the war table. He had much more to worry about than the actions of a single killteam.

+++Two hours earlier+++

Castobel was a miserable world. A filth-infested hive planet with cities stretching from horizon to horizon, it housed billions of Emperor-fearing souls and enough industrial waste to choke a Tyranid hive fleet. Correction: it _had_ housed billions of Emperor-fearing souls, and despite common agreement the Tyranids did not seem put off by the uncountable tons of waste that flooded the hive cities. The upper levels had been decently civilized, until the Tyranid invasion had rendered the upper levels into ruin-filled warzones. But it was the lower levels that they trekked now. Here there was not even a hint of real sunlight, nor of waste management or any sort of organized institutional presence. This was where the gutter rats lived, those pathetic individuals who had just enough to live for that they didn't waste away and die.

It could have been worse. As a Skyclaw of Wolf Lord Engir Krakendoom's Company, Rengar was used to battling in narrow corridors and ship atmospheres. At least here he had room to truly fly. His jump pack idled impatiently, demanding the freedom of hurtling through the streets. Were it not for his companions, he might have. Fenris curse his luck for being put in a team with members of the Dark Angels and its successors. His blood burned for the opportunity to clash blades with either of them. The honor of the Wolf must be upheld. But now was not the time. Now was the time to hunt. A platoon of Guardsmen had gone missing, somewhere in the darkness of the lower hive. They had been sent to find the poor little Guardsmen.

Though the question of how a unit of highly trained Guardsmen had managed to go and lose themselves in the middle of a Tyranid invasion remained firmly rooted in the mind of Brother Daxin of the Dark Angels. A relatively fresh Techmarine with merely ten years of service since returning from Mars, he found this mission to be a waste of resources. Tyranids were falling from the skies, though in far less numbers than they had been a few hours ago judging by the growing lapses of antiaircraft fire, the more widely spaced thunder-claps of Tyranid spores entering the atmosphere, and the general lowering of frantic communication among Guard units in the sector. He calculated that the rate of Tyranid landings had been falling steadily by an average 1.49% per ten minute increments. Which brought him back to his frustration that, while the threat appeared to be lessening, what were they doing hunting down a single unit of Guardsmen? They should have sent a single scout, or perhaps another company of Guardsmen. Why task a specialized killteam on a search and rescue mission?

It was a sentiment shared by all, particularly by Brother Naaman of the Obsidian Angels. His helmet twitched this way and that as they patrolled the deserted streets of Sector 4. Twin plasma pistols lay magclamped to his breastplate, but his hands rested near the paired bolt pistols resting easy in their hip holsters. The tactical marine was itching for a fight; it read in the way he walked and the clipped tone he used when addressing the others. He and the Skyclaw Rengar had been spoiling to duel since they had first laid eyes on each other. That would be an interesting battle. A Brother who dual-wielded pistols pitted against a Brother who dual-wielded chainswords. Both came from proud and powerful Chapters with a history of excellence in close combat. It would certainly be a match to remember.

But that was not what occupied the mind of Brother Shlutz, the killteam's apothecary. A member of the Raven Guard, he alone appreciated the black coat over his normally white armor. He remained in the shadows, following the team but remaining alert for trouble. Centuries of guerilla warfare tactics did not melt away, even if elevated to the ranks of the Apothecarion. His seconding to the Deathwatch had been for research of this new splinter fleet of Tyranid bioforms, but as he had suspected his role had quickly become that of a battlefield specialist. It seemed that the Inquisition held little regard for non-henchmen in the laboratories. Their paranoia for secrecy would be their downfall someday.

As ever though, the works of the Inquisition stretched beyond their limited scope. For now it pleased their overseers to hunt down missing Guard units. The time would come when they would be called forward to missions of real consequence. As trivial and petty as the Inquisition could be, they fully appreciated the power and expertise of their Deathwatch forces. Why else would they have sent two whole companies of Deathwatch Marines to protect Castobel from Hive Fleet Dagon? Two companies composed of the finest warriors in the Imperium were doing more to hold back the Tyranid menace than a whole Imperial Navy Fleet could dream of. They were doing so well, in fact, that there was time for killteams to be sent on errant missions such as this.

What they needed, Codicier Chronus thought bitterly, was for someone to try and kill them. This team had just recently been assembled, and they were still learning each other's quirks and tactics. While there was no doubt that each member of this team could hold his own in battle, their team chemistry had seen little testing. Even something as small as a skirmish with a lone Lictor could go a long way to solidifying the team's cohesion.

His thoughts were torn back to the present when Techmarine Brother Daxin alerted him to a vox-echo on an encrypted Guard backchannel. The team halted, sweeping the area for signs of movement. Brother Naaman pointed to the building on their left.

"We should leave the streets until Brother Daxin pinpoints the source of the signal. Brother Rengar, take the top flo-"

"Already there" the Space Wolf brother growled. He took three lumbering strides and launched himself up to the second floor, crashing through a window in a cloud of glass and splinters. They stared after him for a moment, shaking their heads at his enthusiasm.

"Inside" Codicier Chronus ordered. They took a quieter route in, using the open doorway. Brother Naaman moved to the far side of the building, looking outside at the square before them. The gutted skeleton of a communications tower loomed proudly in the center of the open space; on the right stood a three story structure bearing signs of battle. He approached the Marine's side and looked out. The three story on the right took his attention. Even before Brother Daxin reported that the signal had disappeared, he knew where it had originated from. Shadowy figures moved about behind the windows.

"Brother Rengar, what do you see?"

"Bodies" he replied, using the internal vox for some measure of stealth. "More than a few."

"Brother Daxin, can you hail them on the vox?"

"I believe it is…" he paused as if listening to something. "Incoming artillery."

"Of what sort?" The librarian cast a look back at the Techmarine.

"Heavy mortars" Brother Rengar called down. "We should move."

"Killteam, to that structure! Evacuate the building."

They rushed out of the building just as the shells began to whistle down. Codicier Chronus barely heard the shriek of Brother Rengar's jump pack as he flew overhead and smashed into the top story of the building in question. The others piled into the first floor, bull-rushing the fragile plasteel door and carrying on into the center of the room. At some point in the recent past an explosion had torn through the structure, ripping a gaping hole in the center from the roof to the ground floor. Man-sized figures rose up to greet them.

"Imperial forces, stand down" Apothecary Shlutz shouted.

"By order of the Inquisitorial Deathwatch, lower your weapons!" Brother Naaman drew his bolt pistols and took aim on two separate clusters of men. They were Guardsmen, probably the lost unit that their team had been sent to look for.

Someone fired a lasgun in panic. The shot struck Brother Naaman in the shoulder. It did no damage, but other Guardsmen joined in the shooting. A barrage of fire slammed into the Marines. Grenades hurtled through the air, launched from a team inside the communication tower. Two struck brother Rengar in the arm, exploding against his shoulder pauldron and rocking the Space Wolf back on his heels. He howled with fury and launched himself into the nearest unit of Guardsmen, chainswords coughing for blood. Staggered by the impact of the grenades, he missed his first strike but plowed ahead anyways, taking the heads off of two men in his second blow. Codicier Chronus lifted his flamer and immolated the men towards the rear.

The sight of so many Space Marines and their heavy weapons caused sheer terror in the ranks of the Guardsmen. Several remained to fight but many chose to flee. They leapt out of the windows, preferring to risk the fall than stay and battle against such terrible soldiers. Brother Naaman raked the few that tried to run down the stairs with his bolt pistols. The explosive rounds burst them apart like rotten fruit. The apothecary charged up the stairs to the third floor, knowing that the Space Wolf would be hurting. He arrived in time to see the Space Wolf wrench his blade free of a corpse.

"A pitiful fight" the Skyclaw grumbled. He reluctantly allowed the apothecary to see to his arm. The pauldron had been breached and blood seeped down his arm. The worst of the damage had been deflected, it appeared.

"Targets across the street" the librarian called out. He lowered his flamer and gazed angrily at the men crawling about the communication tower. Summoning the power of the Warp, he launched a ball of warpfire and set three of them ablaze. They screamed in agony before the psychic fire exploded their bodies, spraying their comrades with steaming blood. The Guardsmen fired a few more shots before they saw the sense of their fleeing comrades. Abandoning their position, they joined the rush away from the Deathwatch. Brother Naaman started out to give chase, but had to fall back into the structure as a volley of missiles launched out from a second prepared position and exploded against walls and windows.

Muttering a curse, Brother Naaman stepped out of cover to shoot back. He had to duck back inside a moment later when a blinding volley of lasfire rippled out from a barricade further down the square. These Guardsmen had a well-deployed second line. Codicier Chronus looked across to the communication tower. This must have been their forward position. He keyed his vox to call Brother Rengar.

"RUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSS!"

The jump pack shrieked again. The black-armored figure of their Space Wolf Skyclaw hurtled across the square, chasing the smoke trails of the missiles. The librarian was astounded by the Space Wolf's audacity. There must have been a hundred Guardsmen scattered across the firing line. He peered out through a window and looked across towards their line. Halfway between the communication tower and the barricades sat a low pillbox, dug into the earth to provide as small a profile as possible. The men inside the pillbox spat sheets of fire after Brother Naaman. A fragmentation grenade flew out from the Marine's cover and rolled inside, launched with perfect precision despite the suppressing fire punching into the wall around him. Its explosion was muffled by the press of bodies inside.

A series of bright flashes lit up the tower that Brother Rengar had leapt into. A screaming Guardsmen tumbled out a window, falling four stories to his death. The Space Wolf wreaked havoc on the terrified missile team. Men began to trickle out of the first floor of the tower, rushing to escape the vengeful swordsman.

"Brother Rengar, how do you fare?"

The Space Wolf's reply was jumbled, as if he had taken a powerful blow to the head. Codicier Chronus stepped forward, seeking to get a better view of the battle. Seconds later he heard the shrilling cry of artillery.

"Mortars" the Techmarine shouted. "Take cover."

Brother Naaman glanced up, judging the placement of the shells. He dove to the side, crashing through the stairwell and carrying on outside the building. Three explosions rocked the building. The concussive force blew out what glass remained in the windows and knocked the apothecary onto his back. Rolling up to his knees, Brother Shlutz called out for casualties. No one had been hurt.

"This company is heavily armed" Brother Daxin said. He fired a few rounds with his bolter downrange. "We have a contact coming in from our rear."

The Ultramarine picked himself up from the debris and checked his vox. "Unidentified individual, this is Brother Chronus of the Deathwatch Chapter, Ordo Xenos. Identify yourself."

"This is Codicier Velcona of the Deatchwatch. I was sent to assist you, Brother."

"Your presence is most appreciated. We are taking fire from across the square."

"Understood. I am moving into the communication tower opposite your position." A Space Marine came charging down the street, his shoulder pauldron marking him as a Salamander. Like the Ultramarine, he carried a flamer. That would be more than useful when taking on these Guard positions.

The Space Wolf burst out of the missile tower. A hail of fire rose to greet him as he screamed for blood. Several rounds impacted against his body and pack. A micro explosion ripped through his jump pack and he went careening into another building. His vox channel fizzled into heavy static.

"Brother Rengar!"

"The Wolf will be fine" their apothecary said. "Concern yourself with that pillbox."

Codicier Velcona lifted his flamer and a jet of flame gouged into the firing slits. Their cries of terror were overshadowed by the thunder of grenades tearing pieces of rockcrete from the building. Brother Naaman's bolt pistols barked in response, and he clambered back in through the hole he had made diving out. Under his covering fire Techmarine Daxin rushed across the join Codicier Veclona in the communication tower. His servo-arm ripped a corner from the relay, sending it crashing down to reinforce their cover. A third round of mortar strikes exploded around the smaller structure, doing no damage but throwing up a haze of smoke. The Ultramarine librarian charged across the join them.

"This is a fine mess" the Salamander said. His vox-augmented voice hid any feelings he might have possessed. "Well met, Brothers."

The librarians lifted their flamers and poured fire into the pillbox, roasting those nearest the firing slits. Those that survived the inferno lost their spirit and chose to run. Guardsmen spilled out of the rear of the pillbox, sprinting for the main line as if the Archenemy himself was on their heels. Those at the barricades provided covering fire, though their intensity had fallen away under the accurate fire of Brother Naaman. His bolt pistols continued to sing a dirge-like chorus above the gunfire.

"Does anyone have a visual on Brother Rengar?" The apothecary managed to sound marginally concerned.

As if in answer, the jump pack screeched again and the Space Wolf soared through the air. His course was erratic, like a drunk was at the helm of a speeder. Slamming into the three story building, he went tumbling along the floor and slid to a halt beside the apothecary. His armor was blackened and most of his helmet appeared nonfunctional. But his spirits were high as he lay on the floor, spitting blood between breaths. "This is a glorious fight."

Concentrated fire drove what few Guardsmen remained at the barricade into retreat. They slunk off behind a six meter wall, disappearing from view entirely. More mortars fell to cover their retreat. Codicier Chronus watched them move out, gauging their morale.

"Brothers, can you see where they are going?"

"It appears to be a tactical withdrawal" Brother Daxin claimed. "They are likely preparing a third line of defense."

"Then let's bust it wide open before they can settle down." Brother Naaman twirled his bolt pistols and slammed fresh clips in. "I am moving to the tower. Covering fire."

Not a soul showed as he loped across the square and burst through the reinforced door as if it were matchwood. Both of the librarians followed him into the bunker, flamers primed and ready to fire. The Guardsmen had cleared out in a hurry. Packs and gear lay strewn about beside empty sleeping rolls. Hurrying past, they looked out the windows for a better view of the action. Brother Daxin had advanced to the pillbox with Brother Rengar in support. The Techmarine was shouting for the Guardsmen to surrender their weapons. They answered by dropping a fourth barrage of mortars directly onto the pillbox. The Space Wolf heard them coming first and dove for cover. A direct hit cracked the pillbox wide open, sending a geyser of dirt and blood blossoming into the air. Not Space Marine blood. The fallen Guardsmen's bodies were torn asunder by the mortar shell.

"There they are" Brother Naaman called out. He stepped back from the window as a hail of lasfire smashed into the tower. He waited patiently for a series of grenade to explode against the outer wall. A portion of the wall fell away, destroyed by the concentrated launcher fire. The Obsidian Angel chuckled before hurling his own through the window. "Looks like some of the heavy weapons survived our comrade's charge."

"I will handle this" Codicier Velcona announced. He pushed into the opening and lifted his flamer. A missile fired pointblank slammed into his chestplate, hurling him backwards. The fireball engulfed his armored form. The Marines howled in rage and poured fire into the reloading missile team. As they attacked from this side Brother Rengar smashed through the barricade beside the wall and charged into their midst, chainswords swinging. Those that tried to stand and fight were swept away by the righteous fury of his assault. Bolt shells from Brother Naaman laid the missile team to waste. A concentrated unit, possibly their command squad, charged in towards the Space Wolf. Their advance was cut short as Brother Daxin joined the fray, but before either of them could land a blow a wave of promethium fire splashed into the team and incinerated the frontrunners. Codicier Chronus held his aim steady as he chased the desperate men back into their cover. An officer with a plasma pistol remained, diving to the ground and rolling to douse the hungry flames clinging to his coat. A burst of fire jetted from the prone Salamander librarian and ended the commander's struggles.

Codicier Chronus ordered up the apothecary to tend to Codicier Velcona. He strode over to examine the bodies. 813th Cadian. This was unfortunate. Six bolt pistol shots rang out; that would be Brother Naaman finishing off the mortar crews. He did not bother calling the team back in. At this point it was better that every man in the Company perished. When all had gone silent for several minutes he called them in. The team assembled and waited for his orders. Apothecary Shlutz tended to minor wounds and basic field repairs.

"Brothers, it seems we have discovered the fate of the Cadians."

"A glorious battle" Brother Rengar growled. He had removed his helm. Licking the blood from his lips, he glanced around at the others. "I think that went fairly well."

"This is the unit you were sent to find?" Codicier Velcona frowned at the revelation.

"They fired on us" Brother Naaman added. "We attempted to prevent a conflict."

Codicier Velcona did not look pleased, but he nodded in assent and gestured for the other librarian to continue. Brother Rengar had a flask out, though where in the Throne he had hidden it on his armor no one knew. Not to be left out, Brother Naaman drew a lho stick that would have set an Ogryn unconscious and took a long drag. The two Marines eyed each other for a long moment before nodding and continuing about their post-battle traditions.

"Brother Daxin, vox back to command and see if they have a Rhino available. I don't feel like walking back."

"What are we going to tell Sergeant Agrippa" the Techmarine asked.

"The truth" Codicier Chronus stated. He looked at them all for confirmation. "That the 813th Cadian Shock Troops is no more."

"A shame" Brother Naaman said. The burning end of his massive lho stick cast an eerie glow across his face.

"Bah!" The Space Wolf chuckled. "They fought and died like warriors. At least, some of them did. Not so sure about those cowards that tried to run."

"They were Imperial soldiers" the Salamander snapped.

"They were Guardsmen." Brother Naaman shrugged his powerful shoulders. "There's plenty more where they came from."


End file.
